We are a family of six through birth and adoption through the foster care system. Our days include a mix of reactive attachment disorder, post traumatic stress disorder, visual and language processing disorders, and general strangeness mixed with joy, peace, and healing.

"Mom, how does the Tooth Fairy fly through the air?""How do YOU think?""I think moms do it.""Ah.""But how can a Mom be a Tooth Fairy?""Good moms are lots of things, Princess.""OH."

Monday, June 20, 2011

Peanut Ingenuity

My children are geniuses.
No. Seriously. They are.
Ok. So there hasn't been any testing to prove it. Who needs testing when there is cold hard evidence like this:

Summer (so far) hasn't been as bad as last year, but no miracles have ocured in the past year, either. As a result, the atmosphere of our house could be described as... well,

noisy.

The good news is: thanks to what they call "pharmaceutical intervention," we're down to one decent size rage per day, plus we're getting about four rage-free days for every 10 non-rage-free. This is a major step up from six to ten rages per day plus my hugely bruised shins, bite-marked arms, and concussed head of yester summer.

Still, it's... well,
noisy.

The above photos were taken during a particularly noisy moment. I had restricted Princess to smack dab inside my space, and she was making very sure I enjoyed it as little as humanly possible. Princess has patented a noise she reserves for such moments. It is truly indescribable, but if you did a mash-up of fingernails on a chalkboard, squeaking Styrofoam, a fork scratching into ice, and the mating cry of rhesus monkeys, you could probably use it as a springboard for your imagination.

As this hideous noise is taking place, in slither these two blanketed figures, at an incredibly slow pace. So slow that it take at least five minutes for me to realize they are slithering through the kitchen. As they near me, the larger blob raises an appendage and hands me a blanket.

"Here Mom. Here is your snail shell. If you put it on, you won't be able to hear the screaming. It'll just sound like, 'hey I REALLY love my family.'"

About Me

The major players:
Josh: hot husband of 16 years.
Buddy: 11-year-old biological son; sweet, intuitive, spiritual, literal-minded economist.
Princess: 9-year-old daughter adopted from foster care; hard-working and generous, healing from PTSD and reactive attatchment disorder (RAD),as well and language and vision processing disorders,drug exposure and possibly autism; has introduced Josh and Kerrie to the wonderful world of therapeutic parenting.
Peanut: 8-year-old daughter adopted from foster care; athletic, coordinated, energetic future obstetrician; also healing from PTSD and RAD, also allowing her parents to hone their creativity.
The Cuddle Bear: 6-year-old daughter adopted from foster care; verbal and hilarious; has been actively watching since 18 months of age for her parents to turn their backs.
Jorge: the anti-chihuahua.
What does she do with all this? What ever God asks.